


Falling Stars

by Palatinedreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: A little bit of mystery, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Feudalism, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Soulmates, Threesome - M/M/M, mistrust and old wounds, old feuds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palatinedreams/pseuds/Palatinedreams
Summary: Thomas, Duke of Falkenstein, and Marco, Duke of Hohenburg, have to marry to bring peace to both of their countries, but when Thomas meets his fiancé for the first time in his home Castle Falkenstein, he realizes with dismay that the gods have chosen Marco's loyal swordsman and first knight Robert to be his Animatus, his chosen soulmate. Above all of this, Robert is the grandson of the lord who'd once betrayed Thomas' own family in the worst way possible - and also Marco's secret lover...
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/gifts).



> My dearest Janie94,  
> I'm so glad that I can finally post the story I'd started to write for you months ago for your birthday. I really hope that you'll enjoy this fic, you know on whom these characters are based on, even though I decided to post it as an original work.  
> I'm also so happy that you're writing and posting again, I missed your stories so much. You've always been my source of inspiration, and I really, really hope that you will enjoy reading this fic!! <33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is waiting for the arrival of his betrothed, the Duke of Hohenburg, watching the dark night sky and the falling stars.  
> But his fiancé Marco is not the only one he is soon about to meet, turning his world upside down and changing him forever...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that it was months ago that I wrote this first chapter for you, but I'm glad that I can finally post it. :-)

“The arrival of your betrothed is due, your Grace. Your presence will soon be required in the great hall.”

Thomas, Duke of Falkenstein, didn't turn his head away from the dark-blue silk of the night sky as he answered to the man who'd spoken these words in a voice so calm that they didn't sound like the gentle reprimand they actually were.

“They say that a falling star is the lost half of two bonded souls, Miro.” The young Duke followed another blinking meteor with his bi-colored eyes, remaining in the motionless posture he'd adopted when he'd stepped onto the small balcony to seek shelter in his private rooms more than an hour ago, watching the orange glow of the evening colors turn into the shimmering deep blue of the early night like a beautiful but lifeless marble statue.

“So they say, your Grace.” His housekeeper agreed evenly, and Thomas let out a sigh and slowly craned his head over the thick velvety red coat that his shoulders were clad in to look at the older man. The long cape was a sign of his rank as the most powerful aristocrat among the noblemen that ruled over the green mountains of Palatina, but tonight the red robe felt more like a heavy burden pressing down on him rather than like the source of power and confidence it had always been for his predecessors on the throne of Falkenstein.

“Why do you call me 'your Grace', Miro?”

“Because you are the Duke of Falkenstein, rightful sovereign of Palatina, your Grace.”

Thomas drew his brows together in a gesture of displeasure. “I'm the Duke of Falkenstein for more than a year by now, Miro, but you've never called me 'your Grace' when we've been alone together until tonight.”

Miro met his angry glance without blinking or flinching back from the wrath of his sovereign. “Life as we know it means constant changes. Things that were appropriate or right yesterday will be wrong tomorrow. One of my duties as your faithful servant is to make you be aware of those changes and accept them as necessary and inevitable, your Grace.”

“You're not my servant, Miro. You're my friend. At least I thought that you're my friend.” Thomas tried to keep his voice calm and quiet, but failed, hating how whiny and scared he sounded here in the small dark corner where he'd wanted to hide from the world and the inevitable changes Miro was referring to. He'd of course known that his behavior was foolish and not worthy the powerful Duke of Falkenstein he was supposed to be for his people, but he was human like the simplest of his subjects, and clinging to the vain and foolish hope that the things you were afraid of wouldn't happen if you just tried to ignore them hard enough was a very human thing to do - and just as old as mankind itself.

“I am both, your Grace. I'm your servant and your friend, I have always been, and even the gods themselves could never change that.”

“I need the friend more than the servant now, Miro.” Thomas swallowed against the lump of fear sitting in his throat, his voice desperate and pleading, and Miro's face softened in understanding and deep unwavering devotion. Miro had been his gentle and patient teacher since the time when Thomas had still been a young boy, like a loving older brother would teach the younger one the mysteries of life. He'd been Thomas' tether and his guidance through the stormy waters the years of Thomas' adolescence had been for him, never forcing him to accept his advice but always being there to offer comfort and understanding when Thomas had needed him. Too wise and mature for his age Miro had been the only one Thomas had listened to when he'd put himself in danger again and again, rebelling against the tight boundaries his birthright had restrained him with, making him feel like choking and despairing on the heavy burden of duties and expectations the heir of the Falkenstein dynasty had to carry from a far too early age on.

“And I shall be by your side as your friend, my lord Thomas,” his confidant within the thick reddish walls of Castle Falkenstein now said softly, “externals like my choice of addressing you with your rightful title will never change my feelings for you. The opposite is true, and if your anger about me reminding you of who you are will help you through the next hours without letting your true feelings show, then I'll gladly endure your anger and disappointment about my behavior, your Grace.”

Miro bent his head in a deep bow that was full of respect and devotion but lacked any kind of servility, and Thomas sighed in defeat but lifted his chin up in newly found strength and defiance.

“So be it then, my friend. Let's go to the great hall and face the wolves that are only waiting for my mask to slip that would give them the opportunity to use my weakness against me and start a new war before the ink on the peace treaty with Westfalia has even dried.”

A brief contented smile flickered over Miro's ageless features, and the older man raised his head and returned Thomas' gaze as the equal he always was for Thomas when they were alone and no one else could hear them. “Well spoken, your Grace. But please don't disgrace these amazing animals by comparing them with the infamous creatures that pride themselves on belonging to your court and calling each other nobles. Wolves have more honor in their paws than these ruthless and greedy parvenus will ever have.”

“Miro!” But Thomas' eyes sparkled with true amusement despite his halfhearted reprimand, and he couldn't hide the small smile of agreement and deference at Miro's blatant but oh so true statement. He shook his head and drew in a deep breath, schooling his features into the mask of impassive arrogance Miro had taught him in long countless lessons so long ago.

The other man pursed his lips and bowed again. “Much better, my lord Thomas. Shall we face the 'wolves' together now, your Grace?”

“Lead the way, my friend. With you by my side I won't have anything to be afraid of.” Thomas said, striding towards the exit of his private chambers with the long and firm steps of a true ruler. Miro opened the doors for him on his way downstairs to the knight's hall of Castle Falkenstein, and the young Duke of Falkenstein entered the great hall with his head held up high to seat himself on his throne and wait for the arrival of his future husband, his expression calm and stern, but his heart clenching with fear and the feeling that he'd lost something precious before he'd even had the chance to learn what it was.

*~*~*

“Your betrothed Lord Marco, the Duke of Hohenburg and sovereign of Westfalia, is pleased to pay his respects to you, your Grace.”

The man announcing the arrival of Thomas' fiancé was dressed in a shimmering black armor, carrying the black helmet belonging to his armor under his armpit. The long sheathed sword hanging down on his left side didn't leave any doubts about his rank and his profession, and Thomas was pretty sure that the sworn swordsman of the Duke of Hohenburg knew how to handle his weapon and finish his opponents quicker than they could process what was happening to them.

His voice was calm and quiet, but it filled the large great hall of Castle Falkenstein easily, and Thomas found himself unable to avert his eyes from the black knight, who was the right hand of his fiancé and the Commander of Westfalia's army, his reputation preceding him since he'd succeeded the former commander of Westfalia about two years ago. Thomas had never met him in person beforehand, but he suddenly remembered his first time on the battlefield ever, when he'd fought his very first battle right after he'd received his accolate, a scared and confused young knight who didn't know what happened to him while people around him were screaming and dying.

_Thomas had sat on his horse and wielded his sword clumsily, desperately trying to look strong and menacing while he'd defended himself against two attackers with all of his might. Sweat was dripping into his eyes and he was about to lose his balance and fall down from his mount when a black knight raced towards him on the back of a huge black stallion. Thomas couldn't see his face because the visor of the black helmet was closed, but his adversaries let go of him instantly when the black knight came to an abrupt halt beside them; and Thomas watched him raise his arm clad in black steel silently, his heart drumming so loudly in his chest that it was drowning out any other sound, even the loud screams of dying soldiers._

_The black knight pointed at the line of trees that bordered the bloody battlefield without uttering a single word, and Thomas stared at him, unable to move or speak, watching the hostile knights following the silent order and galloping towards the trees like in slow motion. The black warrior waited until his fellow knights had left the clearing, staring at Thomas through the small slits of his visor. When they were all gone, he bent his head in some kind of strange greeting, pressing his heels into the sweaty flanks of his stallion and racing after them before Thomas could recover from his shock and ask him why he'd done that and spared his life. The black knight was gone within a minute, and Thomas wondered whether he'd only dreamed or if this strange encounter had truly happened for months._

He'd pushed the memory of his first battle away into the farthest corner of his mind, but now everything came rushing back to him, and Thomas needed all of his self-control to meet the intense gaze out of piercing blue eyes without blinking and showing his shock and confusion. The pair of cerulean-blue eyes belonged to a face of stunning male beauty under a thick shock of curly black hair, and Thomas felt a strange flutter deep in his heart and his stomach. It was like a soft pull that was drawing him to the unknown man like he'd never felt drawn to anybody else before, and his soul wanted to sing and reach out for the other man, yearning for something Thomas didn't have the words to describe it. The young Duke of Falkenstein couldn't tell whether or not the black knight was feeling the same way, but something was flashing in his blue eyes, darkening his gaze with recognition.

Recognition not of their first encounter on the battlefield so long ago – even though he surely remembered that remarkable first meeting too - but the recognition of what they truly were that Thomas realized in the very same moment.

_Animatas._

The Commander of Westfalia's army, the right hand of the sovereign of Westfalia, the Duke of Hohenburg, was Thomas' _Animatus._

The confidant and loyal swordsman of Thomas' betrothed was his bounded _Animatus,_ his soulmate – the one man he could never have.

*~*~*

“Your Grace?”

Miro's concerned voice was slowly sinking into his mind, sounding through the white noise of his whirling thoughts, and Thomas swallowed against the bitter bile of despair rising in his throat. He inhaled a hidden deep breath and clenched his hands in the folds of his red cape to hide their trembling as he pushed himself up from his throne to descend the few stairs and meet his future husband on the same level and pay his own respects to him in order not to cause a serious affront. It wouldn't help matters if he disgraced the sovereign of Westfalia in front of his own entourage and started their future with humiliating his betrothed right after his arrival in his new home. The greedy wolves of Thomas' own court were only waiting for something like that, but Thomas wouldn't allow more bloodshed between their homelands, that were still suffering so terribly after endless decades of war. Being the sovereign of the homeland of his ancestors meant that he had to put the needs of his subjects before his own wishes, and Thomas wouldn't let his people down and make them suffer more than they already had for far too long.

The young Duke swallowed again and tore his eyes away from the beautiful being his soul had recognized as her bonded mate instantly, stopping in front of the blond man who was waiting patiently for Thomas to acknowledge him, standing one step behind his right hand and facing Thomas with an impassive mask of his own.

The black knight hesitated for the blink of an eye before he graciously moved to the side with a bow to grant Thomas a free passage, and Thomas couldn't help but wonder whether it was mistrust and the fear that Thomas could try to harm his lord – or rather unwillingness to see his soulmate tie himself to another man that had caused the tiny moment of reluctance.

This was not the time to muse about such things though, and Thomas extended his glove-covered right hand to the Duke of Hohenburg to accept his kiss. Lord Marco took the proffered hand and bent his head over it after a second or so, directing his beautiful amber-green eyes at Thomas' face as he pressed his cool lips onto the white silk for a brief moment before he lifted his head back up again and loosened his grip around Thomas' trembling fingers slowly and carefully.

“Your Grace,” his fiancé raised his voice for the first time, “I have come to offer myself and my beloved home to you. Westfalia will bloom under your wise reign, I have no doubts about that. Please accept my hand and my request for a peaceful future for both of our countries together side by side.” The blond Duke spoke firmly, and his face was as calm as his voice, giving nothing away of his real thoughts, but Thomas could literally grab the hostility that was radiating from the knights and noblemen who'd accompanied their sovereign on the long way from Westfalia to Palatina. Thomas knew that he needed to be very careful now if he didn't want things to escalate and lead all of them into another bloody war, and the first minutes of their first official encounter were the most crucial ones.

He reached out to gently take the right hand of his fiancé and lift it up to his lips as well, bending his head like Marco had done it and kiss the soft white silk of Marco's own glove like his fiancé had done it to honor him.

“I am truly blessed that you were willing to accept my request for your hand and that you followed my invitation, Lord Marco. I feel honored that you want to put your trust in me and rule over our united countries together with me in peace and wisdom; and I won't rest until I'll have gained your trust and hear you call me by my birth name instead of 'your Grace', my dear betrothed,” Thomas said solemnly, keeping the long fingers of his fellow Duke between his own and looking intently at him after kissing his right hand in the same way Lord Marco had paid his respects to him.

The Duke of Hohenburg wasn't beautiful in the common sense of the word – not of the same striking beauty as his right hand was – but he was handsome in his own unique way, and Thomas would have appreciated the looks of his future husband much more if he hadn't just realized that Marco's faithful first warrior was his own _Animatus,_ his soulmate.

Marco regarded him with those bottomless amber-green eyes for a moment, and Thomas was taken by surprise when the crooked smile his fiancé allowed to ghost around his sensitive lips for a few seconds actually made his heart miss a beat. He hadn't expected to feel something for his future husband – anything other than just a sense of responsibility and duty towards the man he only wanted to marry for political reasons, that is – not after the earthshaking revelation that his soulmate was the loyal swordsman of his fiancé - and the unknown hostile warrior who'd once saved his life he'd just been confronted with out of the blue.

But there was something about Marco he couldn't ignore, something that aroused the wish in him to come closer to him and learn more about the secrets the Duke of Hohenburg was hiding from him so carefully.

“You are right that trust is something that has to be earned between our countries after the long years of war. It is upon us to lead our people by example, Lord Thomas, and I'm willing to put my trust in you and lay my hand in yours to build a better future for all of us.”

Thomas lifted Marco's fingers to his mouth once more and brushed another brief kiss over his long and elegant fingers. “I shall hope that you will lay your heart in my hand one day too, Lord Marco,” he said, his cheeks coloring with heat when he felt piercing blue eyes on his face. He resisted the urge to look back at the quiet knight with the raven-black hair, and Marco gave him a long and thoughtful look, apparently quite aware of what was going on between his right hand and his betrothed.

“The future is not for us to know, your Grace,” he finally said, “but we must not lose our faith and hope in the gods and that they will look down kindly at our bond and bless it with their grace and love, right?”

There were no more words left to say in this moment, and Thomas only nodded to that and offered his arm to the Duke of Hohenburg to guide him to the guest quarters the servants had prepared for the sovereign of Westfalia over the last weeks, trying not to despair on the strange sense of humor the gods must possess that they had chosen the first knight of his fiancé to be his _Animatus._

Another falling star was flashing over the sky right when they made their way through one of the corridors of Castle Falkenstein and passed one of the windows, and Thomas felt a cold shiver run down on his spine, the feeling of loss and sadness darkening his heart and his soul like _Noxys,_ the God of Darkness, was blackening the sky every night.

Nothing would ever be the same again, now that he'd met his soulmate without ever being allowed to love him, and all Thomas wished for with every single fiber of his being was for time to stand still forever and for the future to never come to him.

*~*~*

The wooden tables threatened to burst under the weight of the bowls and plates Castle Falkenstein was offering to its illustrious guests.

Thomas hated the display of decadence more than he could put it into words, but he knew where his duties lay and what he owed to the sovereign of Westfalia and his entourage. His people were suffering hunger, and the young Duke would have preferred a simple meal for dinner on such a late hour, but he had to keep up appearances in order not to show any sign of weakness when the aristocracy of Palatina gathered all together in Castle Falkenstein to welcome his betrothed in their middle with faked joy and happiness.

According to the strained look in Marco's amber-green eyes his fiancé shared his disgust about the late-night feast, but the carefully controlled mask of polite agreement stayed firmly in place on the face of his fellow ruler, and Thomas could only admire him for that. The blond Duke just nibbled on the fresh bread and some berries though, and the paleness of his hollow cheeks indicated strongly that his future husband wished for some peace and quiet more than for anything else.

His loyal swordsman, Thomas' _Animatus,_ was standing behind the comfortable armchair Thomas had pulled for Marco an hour ago to offer him the place on his right side, and Thomas could feel his deep blue eyes shifting between his lord and himself. He still didn't know the name of his life-savior and soulmate, and he wasn't sure whether he should be grateful for that or more angry that his betrothed apparently wanted to keep him in suspense about the name of his right hand. His own first warrior Manuel was standing behind his chair in the same straight posture like the black knight was standing behind the blond Duke, warning everyone who was foolish enough to merely think of trying to harm his lord that they wouldn't even make it close enough to Thomas' chair before they would be dead. Manuel's presence was as reassuring and comforting as Miro's presence usually was, and Thomas forced himself to relax and smile, not wanting to let his true feelings show on his sometimes far too expressive face. He turned his attention back to his betrothed and encouraged him with a gesture of his hand to sip from the exquisite wine he'd chosen to be the perfect beverage for Marco's first night in Castle Falkenstein himself.

The Duke of Hohenburg had undressed his long and thick golden coat and put on a shorter cape of the same rich golden color instead, contrasting perfectly with his red-golden hair and the shimmering black of his leather breeches and his woolen black tunic, which was adorned with thin golden threads in complicated patterns. The long-sleeved shirt the blond Duke wore under the long tunic was of a lighter beige-golden color, and a broad beige belt accentuated his slim waist. His knee-long boots were made of black leather like his breeches, and his cape was held together by a heavy golden clasp that was shaped into the form of a beautiful big lion. The eyes of the golden lion were made out of black tourmaline, and Thomas had to admit that his fiancé was truly a beautiful and appealing sight.

Something told him though that the Duke of Hohenburg was a man who'd usually prefer to wear much simpler clothes – just like he himself did. His own burgundy red breeches clung to his long legs far too tightly for his liking, and he was sweating in his thick deep-blue tunic and the woolen white shirt underneath. The wool was soft and cozy but scratched on his skin nonetheless, and the broad belt keeping his tunic in place made it hard for him to swallow down his bites. The cape hugging his shoulders was shorter than the coat he'd worn to Marco's arrival earlier tonight, but still too warm and heavy for him to feel comfortable with the fire burning in the large fireplace a few meters behind his back. The clasp holding his cape together was shaped like the falcon that had once given his home its name, its eyes and beak made of red rubies.

Thomas had never really cared about his looks, but tonight he hadn't objected against the formal clothes Miro had laid out for him, his desire to be a pleasing sight for both his future husband and his secret _Animatus_ surprising and angering him in equal measures.

The Duke of Falkenstein knew that countless eyes were watching him when he offered a carefully chosen piece of meat to his aristocratic fiancé, his feigned smile turning into a genuine one of understanding and sympathy when he saw the despair and disgust in Marco's eyes.

“I know that you're feeling sick, my betrothed, but please don't give them anything to gloat over. I truly wished that I could give you more time and didn't need to demand this sign of our attachment from you tonight, but you know that I don't have any choice in this matter, either,” Thomas murmured so quietly that only Marco and perhaps his right hand could hear him over the sounds of the flutes and lyres the musicians were making with their instruments, and Marco slowly nodded in a gesture of silent resignation after a long look into his eyes. The blond Duke leaned in to take the bite Thomas offered him, opening his mouth obediently to let Thomas hand-feed him like he was supposed to do on the first meal they shared as fiancés. He chewed carefully and swallowed down the bite, and only Thomas saw how he closed his eyes in pain for a split second as he fought against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

The Duke of Falkenstein waited patiently until Marco had won back his composure, and the sudden strong and unexpected wave of tenderness shooting through him at the sight of Marco's pale face made his heart clench in his chest. The Duke of Hohenburg let out a small sigh and chose a juicy red cherry with trembling fingers to offer it to Thomas in return as well, and Thomas closed his lips around Marco's fingertips for a moment when he took the cherry into his mouth, looking deep into the amber-golden depths of his future husband as he chewed and swallowed.

They would need to endure the feast for about another hour before Thomas could announce the end of the banquet and give Marco the chance to withdraw and get the rest he needed so badly, but the young Duke with the golden hair and eyes smiled at him, a real smile that lit up his angular features, and for the first time since he'd discovered who his soulmate was on this fateful and awful day Thomas didn't feel like choking and drowning in a dark and ice-cold sea any longer. Maybe Marco was right and the gods would indeed look kindly at their attempt to bring peace to their countries and gift them with some kind of love that would make it possible for them to live together for the sake of their people. Not the kind of love soulmates felt for each other, but at least the love of friends and equal partners who respected one another and truly cared for each other.

Hope was the last thing to die after all, and Thomas had never been the man to give up hope that easily – even more now that he had something that was truly worth fighting for.


	2. In the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Marco are both struggling with their feelings and confusion after their first encounter and the late night feast, and when Thomas is seeking some peace and quiet in the dark gardens of his castle and meets Robert there, he learns something about his _Animatus_ that will turn his world upside down even more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that you like your story, my dear, and that I could finally post it!! <33  
> As I'd already edited the second chapter weeks ago, I thought that I could just post it for you tonight. I hope that you will enjoy the drama that's unfolding itself properly like it is appropriate for the designed Queen of Drama! ;-*

Thomas closed his eyes and lifted his chin up and into the cool night breeze with a soft sound of gratitude and utter relief that he was finally alone and didn't need to control his expression any longer. He braced his hands against the red sandstone which the railing of the balcony was made of, dwelling in the sensation the rough stone caused on the tender skin of his palms.

It wasn't more than a few hours ago that he'd been standing on the same spot to wait for the arrival of his betrothed, but it felt like an entire lifetime to the young Duke of Falkenstein. His fiancé wasn't like he'd expected him to be, the Duke of Hohenburg wasn't the hated enemy Thomas had thought him to be at all. Marco of Hohenburg was a handsome and fascinating young man with a kind heart - and who'd learned the lesson that human life was mostly a cruel and miserable experience the hard way and far too early. Life had taught him the same merciless lessons which Thomas had had to learn when he'd still been nothing more than a small boy, and these lessons had turned the young sovereign of Westfalia into a hard man who appeared to be cruel and merciless to his enemies, hard and unyielding to those who threatened his people and his beloved home. Thomas had heard so many horrible stories about the young Duke of Hohenburg and what he let his armies do to his enemies, but he couldn't believe all of these stories anymore, not after he'd seen the despair, grief and self-hatred in the bottomless depths of Marco's amber-green eyes.

After he'd seen the kindness that was miraculously still there in those beautiful and mysterious amber-green orbs, covered under layers of resigned determination and red fury about the injustices of life that the gods had burdened upon his slim shoulders, but still visible for someone who'd search for it more closely.

Marco, Duke of Hohenburg, was not the man his own advisers and ministers had wanted for Thomas to see in him. He was so similar to Thomas himself in so many ways, and they were kindred spirits and cognate minds in ways nobody else could ever be for them. They had both done things they could never undo again, both of them had the blood of innocent people clinging to their hands, and Thomas didn't have any right to judge Marco for the things he'd done to protect his people and defend his home, because he'd done very much the same for the same reasons.

Marco of Hohenburg was not the despicable enemy he'd always been in Thomas' imagination, and he was actually a man Thomas could so easily fall in love with.

If there hadn't been Marco's right hand, the Commander of Marco's armies and his sworn swordsman.

Thomas'  _ Animatus. _

The man who was dark and dangerous where Marco was bright and sparkling.

The man who seemed to be much more to his future husband than just his loyal right hand and first knight.

Thomas had seen the way Marco was looking at the black knight who had once spared Thomas' life, and he'd seen the way the beautiful knight with the raven-black hair and the cerulean-blue eyes looked back at his lord and sovereign when they thought that their glances would go unnoticed.

And yet Marco's loyal swordsman had looked at Thomas the same way at least once, his soul acknowledging Thomas' soul as her bonded  _ Anima  _ in the same moment when Thomas had realized the truth about them.

The Duke of Falkenstein sighed and opened his eyes, the thoughts whirling and racing in his mind making him feel dizzy and sick. He looked up at the black sky and swallowed when he caught sight of another falling star lightening up the dark night for the blink of an eye. The last time when there had been so many falling stars visible had been long ago, back then in the night when he'd been born. His beloved nurse had told him about his birth and the falling stars when he'd been a three-year-old boy, and how they had been a sign of the gods for each and every Palatinian that the newborn heir of the throne was marked and claimed by them, rocking him on her knees and stroking his soft light-brown hair while he'd listened to her with big eyes.

Thomas had never seen a falling star before tonight, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were perhaps a sign of the gods in these fateful and important hours as well.

_'Falling stars are the lost half of two bonded souls, darling. Don't you ever forget that. If you'll see a star falling from the sky, then you'll know that someone has lost their soulmate.'_

His nurse Jeannie had told him the old tales about soulmates –  _ Animatas –  _ and how their souls turned into falling stars when one of them died. Thomas had listened to her with big and wondrous eyes and asked her how he would know his soulmate when he was older. She'd laughed and hugged him gently, placing a sweet kiss on his warm cheek.

_'Soulmates are rare these days, darling. The last time the world has known about two bonded souls has been long before your grandfather's father was born, when people were still worshiping the gods the old way.'_

_ 'So I won't have a soulmate?'  _ Small Thomas had pulled a face and his lips had started to tremble with disappointment because the thought of never finding the other half of his soul had scared him pretty much. Jeannie had smiled at him and kissed him on his cheek again.  _ 'Only the gods know that, darling. But I do believe that if the stories about soulmates are really true and  _ Animatas _ actually do exist, then you will be one of the few people who have a soulmate, Tommy, I'm sure of that.' _

_ 'But how will I know them?'  _ Thomas had asked, and Jeannie's smile had softened.  _ 'You will know them when you meet them. Your soul will start to sing and acknowledge them, telling you that they are the right one for you and that you've found the  _ song of your heart _ , darling.' _

_'Are you sure, Jeannie?'_

_ 'Yes, I am. But now it's time for you to sleep. You need to grow a little more until you can meet your soulmate, and time will pass by much quicker when you'll be a good boy and sleep enough, my darling.'  _ Jeannie had said, and Thomas had let her put him to bed from that day on without trying to argue. His father had always wondered what she'd done to make him cooperate like that, but neither Jeannie, nor Thomas himself, had ever told him the reason for his changed behavior and his willingness to go to bed and sleep alone in his dark nursery from that day on.

Thomas remembered his talk with his nurse as he now watched another falling star racing over the black sky, and he couldn't help but think that the old stories were true and that he'd already lost his  _ Animatus  _ before he'd even had the chance to know his name.

_*~*~*_

“He's not like you expected him to be.”

It was a simple statement, not a question, and the voice of the speaker gave nothing away of his feelings.

Marco, Duke of Hohenburg, slowly turned his head to look at the man who was leaning against one of the pillars that flanked the large arched window of the spacious chamber which belonged to the guest quarters and served as a private living room and a small library at the same time. The blond sovereign of Westfalia let his eyes travel over the relaxed posture of his right hand and sworn swordsman, wondering briefly whether or not his fiancé Thomas of Falkenstein would let himself be fooled by the seeming display of inattention and carelessness like so many other – much older and more experienced – warriors had let themselves be fooled by this attitude and paid a high price for their grave mistake.

Probably not. The Duke of Falkenstein came across like a lanky and innocent young man who was in permanent danger to trip over his own long legs most of the time, but the look in his eyes was sharp and the look of a well-trained and skilled fighter who was certainly as good in feigning carelessness and inattention and fooling people as Marco's first knight actually was. The sovereign of Palatina was for sure far more dangerous, ruthless and iron-willed than most people – the stupid and arrogant nobles of his court included – gave him credit for.

No, his betrothed would see right through the faked picture of relaxation and prove himself to be an equal opponent to the best warrior of two countries - who was only known as the  _ Black Knight _ and who taught entire armies the meaning of fear by his mere appearance when he came into sight sitting on the back of his black stallion Nighthunter.

Marco was torn whether he should actually be happy about that - or rather add it to the long list of things he should hate and despise his future husband for.

Robert, Earl of Lindelborn, returned Marco's irritated glance with a calm expression, waiting patiently for his answer, and Marco swallowed and folded his arms before his chest as if to protect himself. 

“He's not what either of us expected him to be, is he?” he eventually gave back with a counter question, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly as he tried to catch a glimpse of Robert's thoughts that were hidden behind a perfectly mastered mask of calm and self-control. The prospect of having to bind himself to the man he'd fought against in the desperate attempt to defend his beloved home and his people had already been hard enough to take, but knowing that his future husband was Robert's _Animatus_ was really more than he could bear. Marco didn't know what he'd done to deserve such cruelty and pain, but he must have angered the gods seriously that they were punishing him like that; and Thomas' kindness during the awful feast had made everything worse because the other man's behavior had aroused feelings and wishes in him that could never be returned and fulfilled.

The Duke of Falkenstein would never look at him the way he'd looked at Robert when he'd realized who the Commander of Westfalia's army actually was, and Marco's heart was crying for something he could never have.

“My expectations do not matter here, my lord.” Robert said quietly, and a sound of bitter mockery escaped Marco's lips. 

“Of course they do.” He felt betrayed and bereft of something he hadn't known that he was longing for at all until he'd looked into Thomas' fascinating bi-colored eyes for the first time, and he turned his head away in order not to let his confidant see his hurt and confusion.

“No, they don't, Marco.” The black-haired earl pushed himself away from the pillar with one single swift and elegant motion and stepped closer to Marco to gently cup his face with his calloused sword-hand and stroke over the soft skin of his cheekbone with his thumb. Marco swallowed and blinked against the dampness in his eyes as he looked into Robert's cerulean-blue eyes. Every single bone in his body was hurting after the long and straining journey, and the lump of fear and confusion tightening his throat so painfully threatened to choke him. The young Duke of Hohenburg felt trapped and helpless like he'd never felt in his whole life before, and he allowed himself a short precious moment of weakness when he leaned into Robert's embrace and rested his head on his broad shoulder.

“They matter to me,” he whispered, and Robert carded his fingers through his hair and placed a soft kiss on his temple. “I know, my lord. But as I said, my expectations or feelings don't matter only the slightest. He's your betrothed, and I would never come between you and try to take him away from you.”

Marco closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, inhaling deeply Robert's familiar and beloved scent. The mixture of leather, herbals and the unique fragrance of Robert's skin was soothing and exciting at the same time, and Marco pushed his nose against the warm crook where Robert's bare neck met his leather-clad shoulder. “How can I still think of marrying him after knowing who he is to you, Robert?” he wanted to know, his voice trembling with the emotions he could hardly keep inside as tired and upset as he felt.

Robert took a step back to grab Marco by his shoulders and look intently at him, his face closed up and the face of the emotionless commander again. “Where is the honorable man I have bound myself to with an oath that the gods have consecrated and blessed themselves? The Marco I once knew would never even consider to put the selfish wishes of one single man before the needs of his people, nor would he think that I would ever want him to do that! You're the sovereign of Westfalia, your subjects trust you to do the right thing and lead them into a peaceful future, and you will not let them down, your Grace! Do you hear me, my lord? You will not leave the path of peace and freedom and doubt the gods and their wisdom. If their will is to try us and test our belief in them with this trial of our fortitude and faith, then we must not waver and prove ourselves to be worthy their mercy. What the Duke of Falkenstein is or is not to me isn't of any importance, Marco. He's your fiancé, the man who will vow himself to you, and this is all that matters to me.”

“But I can't stand seeing you suffer, Robert.” Marco choked out, and Robert's strict expression softened. He took another step back and stroked over Marco's cheek one last time before he removed his hand and broke the contact between them. “Your well-being and happiness is all I need to be well and content myself, Marco. You should know that by now.”

“Contentment is not the same as happiness, my friend.” Marco let his arms drop to his side, accepting the distance Robert had put between them as necessary and inevitable. 

“It will be enough for me, and it should be enough for you too, my lord.” The Earl of Lindelborn bowed his head before his sovereign and Marco watched him leave the chamber with burning but dry eyes, knowing that there was nothing left to say.

*~*~*

Thomas had tried to sleep but soon realized that it was a fruitless undertaking and that sleep wouldn't come to him tonight. He got up from his bed and dressed with a pair of comfortable breeches and a simple white shirt before he made his way through the abandoned corridors to take a walk in the garden behind the proud palas of Castle Falkenstein. Manuel would chide him for his careless behavior, but Thomas doubted that one of the nobles belonging to Westfalia's delegation would be so stupid to try to murder him within the walls of his own castle and right in the first night after their arrival. No matter how much they might hate the thought of this political marriage between their own sovereign and the ruler of Palatina, but they knew quite well that they couldn't risk starting another war which Westfalia could never win, not even with the feared  _ Black Knight _ as the Commander of their armies. Palatina's armies were bigger and had the stronger weapons, and they would sign their own death sentence if they killed their host while being surrounded and outnumbered by their former enemies deep in the territories of Palatina's thick forests.

The young Duke reached the garden without meeting anyone on his way there, the tall figures of the guards patrolling on the walls and in the hallways and yards being only distant and dark shadows against the black sky because Thomas knew the castle he'd grown up in better than anyone else living here did, and he knew quite well where to hide and how to avoid running into other people when he wanted to be left alone.

The garden was empty at this hour of the night and offered the quiet and shelter Thomas' private rooms couldn't offer him to the same extent, and he inhaled deeply the soft and fragrant air, finally being able to breathe properly again within hours. For a few minutes he just strolled aimlessly along the small paths of the garden, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on the soft sounds of the night and the smell of the flowers that perfumed the cool night breeze. The soft wind smelled of the green mountains and the forests of his beloved home, the home he'd sworn to protect with his own life when he'd succeeded his father on the throne. Serving Palatina with all his heart was his destination, the honor and duty of his origin, and Thomas would not abandon his people and put his private needs before the needs of his suffering subjects, regardless of the personal price he had to pay for that.

The Duke of Falkenstein came to a halt before a tall bush to pluck one of the yellow-golden flowers and inhale its sweet scent. “Shouldn't you be with your lord and make sure that he's sound and comfortable here in the residence of his former enemies?” he asked quietly and without turning his head around, his eyes still closed as he took another deep breath and let the scent of the flower penetrate his senses.

“My lord is a man of great skills and more than capable of looking after himself, your Grace. He doesn't need me the way I actually need him, and he was as sound and comfortable as possible given the circumstances when I left him to grant him some peace and quiet. But please tell me what it was that gave me away? I didn't make any sound, and I was approaching you up the wind,” the other man asked curiously, “No one except for my lord ever noticed my approach if I didn't want them to notice me.”

“Your lord is one of the few who know how to use all of their senses then,” Thomas mused, slowly opening his eyes and staring into the darkness with a small smile playing around his lips. “I must admit that I didn't expect anything less from my betrothed.” He slowly turned around at last to face the other half of his soul. “You already know the answer to your question, Commander of Westfalia. You're undoubtedly the best, but a soul will always recognize her bonded _Anima_ , will she not?”

The  _ Black Knight _ bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, she will, your Grace.” He was standing closer than Thomas had thought, and he only needed to reach out with his hand to touch the other man. Which he wouldn't do because he didn't trust himself enough, and the reddish walls of Castle Falkenstein had their eyes and ears everywhere.

The young Duke of Falkenstein spun the flower in his fingers to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to touch his  _ Animatus  _ and cocked his head to the side instead when he gazed at the other man. “Will you tell me your name,  _ Black Knight,  _ or did your lord forbid you to reveal your true identity to me?”

A strange look ghosted over the features of astonishing male beauty. “No, he didn't forbid me to tell you my name, your Grace. But I simply didn't think that it would be necessary to tell you my name. I would think that seeing my face should be enough to tell you the truth about my origin instantly.”

Thomas couldn't hide his confused frown at this mysterious statement. “Your face?”

The Commander of Westfalia's army bowed his head again. “The sons of Lindelborn have always looked the same, your Grace.”

A rather loud gasp escaped Thomas' throat, and he stumbled backwards, staring at the man who was looking back at him with a calm but attentive expression.

“You are Robert of Lindelborn? The son of the son of the traitorous Earl of Lindelborn who betrayed my grandfather?” Thomas croaked out in utter shock and dismay, and the loyal swordsman of his finacé bowed his head for a third time.

“Yes, I am Robert, the ninth Earl of Lindelborn, Lord Falkenstein,” he said, and all Thomas could do was staring at him with wide eyes and his heart drumming in his chest, asking himself desperately when the nightmare his life had become would finally stop - and what he had done to make the gods punish him like that, choosing the descendant and heir of Palatina's infamous traitor to be his bonded soulmate.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and his _Animatus_ Robert have a honest heart-to-heart talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spend some time editing this chapter today, and as it's weekend and next week will be filled with work and other duties again, I'd thought I'd post this chapter for you today already, especially after yesterday's win and some special moments with these two. I hope you'll like it, my dear!!

“You really didn't know who I am,” Robert eventually said when Thomas just kept staring at him with shock written all over his face. He couldn't have been able to control his expression even if his life had depended on it, not after learning that his _Animatus_ was the heir of the noble family that had betrayed his own family in such a terrible way almost fifty years ago.

“No, I didn't. It was forbidden to merely utter the name of the traitor out loud, let alone ask questions about the Lindelborns. Every single picture of the former Lindelborns that still existed was burnt after your grandfather had fled the country. There was nothing left that could serve as a reminder or proof of the former lords, so I don't think that more than a few people would remember nowadays how the members of your family looked like and recognize you as the last heir of the Lindelborn dynasty.” Thomas flinched at the hoarse sound of his voice, and the way his _Animatus_ seemed to look right into his soul made him want to flee this place and run away as fast as he could like Robert's grandfather had done so many years ago.

The powerful Commander of Westfalia's armies had his expression much better under control than Thomas did, and only a brief look of sorrow was shadowing his beautiful features for a moment. “So they burnt the proud home of my ancestors as well, I assume?” he asked quietly, his voice calm and almost emotionless, but his eyes were dark with hidden grief and anger.

“I was told that the soldiers my grandfather sent out to burn Castle Lindelborn down to the ground all died in the fire, but that the castle itself resisted the flames and didn't fall. The fire raged for three days and nights, and when it finally died out, the red walls of your home were craning themselves into the black sky proudly and undamaged, and ever since then no one has ever dared to climb the steep paths up the mountain and come closer to Castle Lindelborn again. It's a forbidden area ever since then, cursed ground, and every man or woman who were foolish enough to challenge the gods and come close to the mountain where your ancestors have once resided never returned from their journeys to tell what they had seen within the walls.”

Another emotion flickered over Robert's aristocratic features, but this time Thomas couldn't tell what it was, and it was gone before he could be sure that it had actually been there. “I see,” was all he said at last, and Thomas' shock finally wore off and was replaced by curiosity and anger. He didn't doubt Robert's words for even a second, he could feel deep in his soul that the right hand of his fiancé was speaking the truth, and that he was indeed the ninth – the last still living - Earl of Lindelborn, the heir of the noble dynasty that had once been the most powerful one next to his own family, the Falkensteins.

Both families had existed for eons and for longer than anybody could actually remember, and they had always claimed to be the true and rightful descendants of the first King of Palatina - who had ruled over Palatina after the gods had withdrawn to the lands of Valhalla. He'd been called the  _ Son of Mars _ , the God of War each warrior still worshiped and served with their swords and their lives even after centuries and millennia had passed. He'd been a demigod himself, gifted with inhuman powers and skills, and his castle had been sitting enthroned on top of a high mountain, but the knowledge about its existence and location had gone lost over the course of time, and no one knew where it was. The legends told that one day the First King would return to Palatina to claim his throne again and bring peace and happiness to those of his subjects who'd never wavered in their faith and always believed in him and his return, and that he would destroy the unbelievers and let them feel his godly wrath. 

The Falkensteins and the Lindelborns had rivaled about gaining ascendancy for decades, both clans firm in their belief and their demand that their first leader was the rightful successor of the First King and meant to rule over Palatina until the  _ Son of Mars _ would return to his human children one day. The Falkensteins had won the upper hand with the help of two other noble families about hundred years ago, and the Earl of Falkenstein – Thomas' great-great-grandfather – had been the first Duke of Falkenstein and the sole sovereign of Palatina after his victory. 

The Lindelborns had begrudgingly accepted their defeat until Robert's grandfather had started a mutiny and tried to kill his hated sovereign – Thomas' grandfather - in the process. He'd escaped with nothing more than the clothes and the black armor he'd worn and his sword that had been made of a special alloy of blackened steel, fleeing to Westfalia to save his unworthy life. 

According to the rumors that were still circulating in the small inns where farmers as well as soldiers smeared their throats after a long and tiring day the former noble lord and then disgraced mutineer and outlaw had sworn an oath of loyalty to the Duke of Hohenstein, Marco's grand-uncle. From this day on no inhabitant of Palatina was allowed to even utter the name of the traitorous Lindelborn-clan, and not even Thomas' beloved nanny Jeannie had dared to tell him more about the fateful events that had brought chaos, destruction and grief to so many people fifty years ago.

Thomas hadn't expected the right hand of his beautiful betrothed to be the heir of the seventh Earl of Lindelborn, even though he actually should have - considering what had happened in the past. He surely hadn't expected his own  _ Animatus  _ to be the grandson of the most hated traitor of his beloved homeland, literally the one person he could never love without becoming a traitor himself and betray his own family and his heritage. But he couldn't deny the truth any longer, not after looking into Robert's cerulean-blue eyes and seeing the truth there. They hadn't formed the bond of true soulmates so far, and yet there was already such a deep connection and understanding between them like Thomas had never experienced before that day, two souls that had finally found each other, reaching out for their mate and responding to one another like Thomas had never thought it to be possible.

“So you're the last Earl of Lindelborn, the heir of the most hated traitor of Palatina,” he stated, schooling his features back into what he hoped to be a mask of self-control and superiority. “One more reason for me to bring you to justice and finally take revenge on you for what your grandfather has done to my family and our people.”

Robert tilted his head in curiosity and raised one of his perfect black eyebrows. “One more reason? What would be the other one – so serious that you'd feel the need to condemn and perhaps even execute me, I mean?” he wanted to know, and Thomas let out a snort at that. 

“You really have to ask that question? Did you really think that I wouldn't realize your terrible betrayal? The reason I already had before I even knew who you are is the not so unimportant fact that you're sleeping with my betrothed of course. Like father, like son, isn't that so? You're the offspring of a family of traitors, so I shouldn't be surprised about your clever move to gain power over your sovereign like that. But maybe I'm wrong here and things are handled differently in Westfalia, so please tell me, does bedding your lord really belong to your duties as his right hand and Commander of his army? Because I don't think that it does. It sure as hell doesn't belong to the duties of Palatina's First Knight – who is my right hand and the Commander of my armies without having to share my bed to prove his skills and worth to me.” 

Thomas tried his best to give his voice a mocking sound, and he lifted his chin up in defiance and arrogance in a rather ridiculous and useless attempt to intimidate the man the gods had apparently chosen to be his fate – or his doom - which was much more likely after all Thomas had just learned about his  _ Animatus. _

Robert pursed his lips and regarded Thomas thoughtfully. “No, it doesn't belong to my duties as the Commander of Westfalia's armies,” he said after a moment or two, “but I don't think that your betrothed being an innocent virgin was a condition for the peace treaty your ministers negotiated with ours in your name either.”

“No, it wasn't.” Thomas admitted, forcing himself to meet Robert's deep-blue eyes without blinking. He was grateful for the darkness hiding the heat crawling into his face, but the Earl of Lindelborn was a skilled and trained warrior and surely sensed his embarrassment and discomfort without needing any light to see the redness coloring his cheeks. 

Being A _ nimatas  _ made it all the way easier for the still so mysterious  _ Black Knight  _ as Robert was most likely able to pick up on his emotions without any problems as forcefully as Thomas was sending them away. It was more difficult for him to sense Robert's feelings in return because the dark-haired knight had them under control like only few people were able to do, but he could pick up on them enough to know that Robert was astonished that Thomas had realized the true nature of his relationship to the Duke of Hohenburg right away. 

“But neither did I expect his right hand to be his lover _and_ my _Animatus_ at the same time _._ You surely agree with me that these two facts put an entirely different meaning and a new and rather delicate note to this 'political' marriage.” He continued, and Robert nodded his head in a brief bow, probably to hide the amused glint flashing in his eyes for a split second.

“A rather unfortunate and inconvenient 'coincidence' indeed, your Grace,” the dark-haired earl stated with a hint of challenge in his calm voice, and Thomas knew that he shouldn't feel hurt, but he couldn't hide the light flinch of his shoulders at Robert's dry words. “That's one way to put it,” he murmured, and Robert's face softened. He looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch Thomas' arm in a brief gesture of comfort for a moment, but he balled his hand instead for a second before he slowly and carefully unclenched his elegant fingers again.

The young Duke of Falkenstein swallowed and drew in a shaky breath. “Did you know it back then? That I'm your  _ Animatus,  _ I mean.” He didn't need to specify his question, he could see in the bottomless depths of Robert's blue eyes that the beautiful earl knew what he was referring to.

“No, I didn't, your Grace. I knew that you were the heir of Falkenstein, and that the gods had sent me to save you and make sure that you would survive the battle. I could feel a strange connection between us, but I didn't realize that it was because we are _Animatas._ Back then I just thought that this connection was just because you were the next Duke of Falkenstein and because of the history we shared. In retrospect I think that the gods didn't want us to see the truth when we first met, it wasn't the right time for us to know about our special bond before today.”

The sound fleeing Thomas' throat was something between a sob and a bitter laugh. “And now that I'm supposed to marry your sovereign in a couple of days is a better time to learn the truth about that?” he ground out through gritted teeth, and Robert bowed his head again to hide his feelings from him. “The gods seem to think so, your Grace. We don't possess their wisdom and foresightedness, and we're not allowed to question their will.”

“It's easy for you to say that,” Thomas managed to bring out despite the lump tightening his throat painfully. “You're in the much better position here, aren't you? You're the man my dear betrothed probably trusts the most in the world, you're the one fulfilling his needs – while I am just the hated enemy Marco of Hohenburg only agreed to marry to end this horrible war and avoid more bloodshed. He didn't have any real say in this matter, no chance to offer his hand and his heart to the one he truly wants. He'll never feel anything for me – nothing other than hate, mistrust and disgust, that is – and my fate will be watching him run away from me and turn to you whenever I'll try to come closer to him. I can't help but wonder why the gods would think that this constellation could ever grant peace and a better future for our countries and all people living in Palatina and Westfalia? How can our subjects start to trust each other and live together in peace and harmony when their two sovereigns hate and mistrust one another so much - and even more when one of them is unfaithful above all things and betraying the other one with you to make everything even worse than it already is?”

Robert remained silent for a few minutes, his eyes directed on Thomas' face as though he wanted to fathom all about his deepest and innermost thoughts. Thomas stared back without blinking, feeling cold and numb like one of the warrior statues that were guarding the large front portal, made of the same deep-red sandstone Thomas' beloved homeland was known for.

“Two sovereigns, your Grace? You would really allow my lord to rule over Westfalia and Palatina together with you as true equals? I know what you said in the great hall and in front of your court and our entourage, but I'd taken your words as a simple stroke of diplomatic courtesy to avoid any inconvenience right after our arrival.” the dark-haired knight eventually asked, taking Thomas by surprise with his question - as the young Duke hadn't expected his _Animatus_ to pick up on that point of all the things he'd just said.

“Yes, of course I would. This is actually the whole reason for our marriage, isn't it? A marriage that will be nothing more than a ridiculous farce and charade now that I know about the true nature of your relationship with my future husband, but it was always my intention to rule together with Marco by my side as true equal sovereigns. Not that this would change the bad opinion my dear betrothed has about me in any way – or make him hate me any less - but it's all I can do to offer all of us a real future that is actually worth living.” Another bitter sound escaped his lips before Thomas could suppress it, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if he could protect his stupid heart this way, which was a hopeless undertaking of course and far too late.

“What makes you think that my lord hates you, your Grace? Or that it wouldn't matter to him that you're seeing him as an equal? Because I know for sure that it will matter to him – much more than you might want to believe.”

“The Duke of Hohenburg has every reason to hate me - and no reason not to hate me. He was forced to accept my proposal, leave his beloved home and go on a long journey to bow his head before me in front of his lords and ministers. I'm the reason that he can never have the relationship with you he certainly dreamed of – and you've just told me that I'm the descendant of the man who fought against your grandfather and forced him to flee from his home and live in a foreign country, unable to return to his beloved ones as the outlaw he'd become after his mutiny. My fiancé has so many reasons to hate me that it's actually a true miracle that he didn't try to kill me the moment we were standing close enough for the first time that he could stab me with a knife without any problems.”

A small smile of true amusement was playing around Robert's sensitive lips. “Do you really think that my lord would try to kill you himself and not just use an assassin for this surely rather difficult task? Me for example?” he inquired with obvious curiosity, and Thomas felt a smile of mocking resignation tug at his mouth in return.

“Marco of Hohenburg is a man of honor, I can see that. I trust him to pay enough respect and honor to me to try and do that himself instead of just sending one of his assassins. And no, I don't believe that he would ever think of using you for such disgraceful tasks, he loves you far too much for that, Robert of Lindelborn. But thank you for your attest that killing me wouldn't be such an easy job to do. Your certainly not very good first impression of my fighting skills must have changed considerably then.”

“Hmm, I see. Your ability to assess and value my lord is impressive, your Grace. But you're mistaken if you assumed that I ever thought low of your fighting skills, Duke of Falkenstein.” Robert bowed his head in acknowledgment. 

“You're right with what you said though, your Grace, my dear lord would certainly do you the favor and try to kill you himself – if he'd ever merely think of wanting to do that, which he doesn't as I can assure you. But to come back to my question – your ambassadors forgot to mention that small but very important fact that you were striving for a real alliance with two equal sovereigns ruling together over our countries. It would have made a great difference to him if my lord had known that right from the beginning of the negotiations.”

Thomas loosened his grip around his midsection and tilted his head. “They didn't forget to mention that. They didn't know about my wish to offer a real alliance and strong bond to the sovereign of Westfalia.”

“Why would you possibly not want them to know about your real intentions, your Grace?” There was a small spark dancing in Robert's eyes, and Thomas felt joy rise in his belly when he recognized the tiny blue spark as admiration and agreement.

“Because my faithful housekeeper chided me today for calling the minions of my court wolves. He said that I would disgrace these beautiful and intelligent animals which have much more honor in their paws than those 'human wolves' will ever have in their whole bodies. I have to agree with Miro, and I found it wise to keep my honest intentions to myself until I'd have gotten the chance to meet my fiancé in person and talk to him without all these 'noble' parvenus listening to us. He's the one everything is all about after all, so he should be the first one to learn what I'm hoping to achieve with this bond, right?”

“Your housekeeper indeed seems to be a very wise and clever man, your Grace. And he's definitely right with what he said about the wolves and their honor. But why did you tell me about your true intentions if you wanted my lord to be the first one to know what you really had in mind when you proposed to him?” Robert narrowed his eyes a bit, and Thomas returned his intense gaze firmly.

“You're my _Animatus,_ the other half of my soul, Robert of Lindelborn. It would be pointless to try and hide them from you – you probably knew what I want from your lov... your... lord the minute you looked into my eyes for the first time. You're much better at hiding your feelings from me as I am in keeping mine a secret from you as I have to admit.”

The dark-haired Commander of Westfalia's armies bowed his head again, and it was a bow full of respect and admiration. “Yes, I already did know what you really want from my lord, your Grace, and I must say that I'm relieved and pleased about that,” was all he said, his voice solemn and soft.

“Will you do me the favor and not tell him before I had the chance to talk to him?” Thomas asked quietly, and the impressive black knight slowly raised his head to look at him again. “You could achieve this by bringing me to justice like you said that you would earlier, your Grace.”

“I didn't say that I would do that, I just said that I have more than just one reason to do so, Robert, that's a difference.”

“It would solve a lot of your problems and give you the revenge your family must have been thirsting for so badly.”

“It would devastate my betrothed and bereave him of the only confidant he has. Not a very clever move and not a good way to start our alliance and marriage with. I want him to be as safe and happy as possible, Robert.” 

Just a few hours ago Thomas hadn't thought that Marco's happiness would ever be important to him, but it was, and he was desperate to prove his trustworthiness to his  _Animatus_ and his willingness to leave the past behind, even though the other families that were still powerful enough to endanger his sovereignty would surely insist on Robert's execution. The last Earl of Lindelborn was too much of a threat to their power to be left alive, and he threatened not only Thomas' position, but theirs as well. 

But Thomas would deal with that when the time came to face the other clans and tell them who the Commander of Westfalia actually was, and he would not have the blood of his bonded soulmate on his hands, no way. Thomas would rather die himself than let any harm come to the two men who'd become the most important living beings to him within a single day, and he would face the wrath of his ministers and advisers without caving in to their demands and threats.

“His happiness really matters to you, doesn't it, your Grace?” Robert's gentle voice broke in on his musings, and Thomas looked at him and simply nodded his head.

“Yes, it does.”

“Then my lord has more than just one confidant in between these mighty walls, your Grace.”

“I hope so, but trust has to be earned, and imprisoning you – or executing you – would not be helpful to achieve this goal, don't you agree with me?”

“I do.” Robert pursed his lips thoughtfully. “So this is the only reason why you want to let me live? Because it would make my lord unhappy if you brought me to justice?”

Thomas gave him a long look. “There's no need to tell you what you already know anyway, Commander.”

“Maybe I'm just greedy and want to hear it from yourself, your Grace.”

Thomas chuckled and finally turned around to leave the garden. “Not as long as you'll keep persisting on calling me 'your Grace', Robert of Lindelborn. I might be inclined to give you the answer you apparently long for if you'll give me what I want from you in return.” He said, striding towards the path that would bring him back to his chambers.

“And what would that be, _your Grace_?” Robert called after him with a soft chuckle of his own, and Thomas stopped but didn't turn his head as he threw over his shoulder:

“I fear that you'll have to find that out on your own, Commander,” he challenged his _Animatus,_ Robert's amused laughter following him through the night until he finally reached his quarters.


	4. The next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco meets Miro when he's summoned to join Thomas for breakfast the next morning, and when he comes to Thomas' private quarters, he's alone with his future husband for the first time since his arrival - and confronted with feelings for his betrothed he isn't prepared to feel at all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is very close to my heart, I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it. <33

Marco hadn't thought that he would be able to find some sleep, but the long journey and his first encounter with his future husband had taken their toll and left him tired down to his bones, a deep slumber of exhaustion claiming him the moment his head had touched the thick pillow.

The quiet sound of someone knocking at the door of the splendid and comfortable guest quarters where he'd spent his first night in his new home rose him from that slumber, and Marco got up into a sitting position too quickly, the chamber starting to spin around him because of the abrupt motion.

Robert as his bodyguard usually took the post as his manservant as well when they were away from Castle Hohenburg, and Marco had been too defiant and stubborn to take his real manservant Mario with him on the long ride to Palatina's green mountains and thick forests, so he found himself alone when the dizziness finally wore off and the quiet knock at the door was repeated with patience but more insistence this time.

The young Duke of Hohenburg had of course been aware of the fact that it would cause a serious affront if Robert as the Commander of his armies served him like a simple servant, but Marco had been too hurt and desperate to listen to the advise of his faithful housekeeper Lukas and follow it. Maybe it was because leaving Mario in Castle Hohenburg made the forthcoming wedding with his worst enemy less real and frightening – just as though there would still be the chance that he could just return to his beloved home if Mario was waiting there for him.

Marco also hadn't expected his fiancé Thomas of Falkenstein to realize right at first sight that Robert was not only his betrothed's right hand and Westfalia's First Knight, but also the lover of his future husband; and the sudden understanding about this important fact that'd been flashing in the Duke of Falkenstein's fascinating bi-colored eyes had caught him by surprise – almost as much as his own realization that the man he'd gifted his virginity to was the bonded soulmate of the man he was supposed to marry.

What had he done that the gods were so cruel, condemning him to a life in pain and agony with a husband who must hate him so much, and who would surely punish him for his terrible betrayal. Marco being untouched had actually never been a condition for the wedding and the peace treaty, but the powerful Duke of Falkenstein surely wouldn't look with kindness at the forbidden passion and love that tied his  _ Animatus  _ and his husband together.

The knock sounded for a third time, and Marco sighed and draped the blanket around his shoulders. “Come in!” he called as he tried to suppress his confusion and hurt about Robert's absence. The beautiful earl with the raven-black hair and the cerulean-blue eyes was an early riser and liked to use the first daylight for his exercises, and it was also not really clever to insult their aristocratic host by sharing the same bed with his forbidden lover right in their first night in Castle Falkenstein, but they were on hostile ground, and Marco felt vulnerable and scared like he'd never felt before in his whole life. His heart was screaming for the only being he trusted with his life here between these thick and cold reddish walls of the huge and intimidating castle where the family of his fiancé had resided for centuries, and he'd never needed Robert's comforting presence as much as he needed it right now, left alone and feeling so lonely in his new home.

The new home he'd hated with every fiber of his being like he'd hated his betrothed until he'd looked into Thomas' intelligent and surprisingly kind eyes for the first time last night. Now he wasn't so sure of his emotions anymore, and he couldn't deny that he felt drawn to the sovereign of Palatina and fascinated by his personality, his longing to get to know the remarkable Duke of Falkenstein better rivaling with his hatred and mistrust and making his head ache and his mind spin with mixed emotions.

The door opened to reveal a man which Marco had seen standing next to the throne in the great hall after his arrival, but he'd been too tired and confused to pay much attention to him as unobtrusive and unimpressive as he'd appeared to be.

Now he realized that this had been a rather grave mistake, even more as the aura radiating from the older one had changed completely, leaving no doubts about his self-confidence and natural ability to put other people in their places and make them obey his orders and wishes even against their will.

He wasn't of tall or broad build, and his ageless features weren't of the kind of male beauty that drew attention to him, but he was definitely a man who knew his place and his worth, and who didn't need to prove himself to anyone in any way. His clothes were simple but of high quality, and Marco guessed that it was his own wish to dress like that and not the will of his sovereign and sire to look like a simple servant instead of being recognized instantly as the superior of all servants who had the dubious honor to serve the Duke of Falkenstein.

“Your Grace, please accept my sincerest apologies for disturbing your sleep, but this beautiful morning is already coming to an end, and his Grace sent me to request your presence in his private rooms to have a late breakfast with him.” Lord Thomas' housekeeper bowed his head with just the right amount of respect and obedience, and he didn't look the least troubled or even sorry for the inconvenience he'd caused - as he was safe in the knowledge that the aristocratic guest of his sovereign was actually more a prisoner and not in the position to be angry or recline the polite 'request', which was actually nothing more than a strict order wrapped in the disguise of courteous diplomacy.

Marco's gaze traveled to the window of its own will to justify the other man's words about the 'beautiful morning', and he suppressed a scornful snort when he found the sky clouded with heavy gray.

“I fear that I cannot approve of your taste of beauty. In my home Westfalia, our view on beauty is apparently rather different from what you consider to be beautiful here in Palatina, and gray actually doesn't belong to our favorite colors,” he said slowly, regarding the confidant of his betrothed with as much impassiveness as he could muster when he returned his eyes to the ageless face of the housekeeper.

“But I should probably be thankful for your kindness to be polite and keep up appearances even when we're alone – as we both know that I'm not free to decline my fiancé's 'request' or refuse to accept your apology. I must admit though that I was rude and thoughtless enough to forget your name again when my dear betrothed introduced you to me yesterday, so would you please be so kind and enlighten me in this matter - so I can play along and thank you for your willingness to save my face and treat me like a guest and not like the prisoner I actually am?”

Thomas' housekeeper slowly raised his head to meet Marco's tired and resigned gaze openly, and the soft smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth now was honest and reached his eyes, making him much more attractive and handsome than he looked like at first sight.

“Each color has its own special beauty, and gray is the lighter sibling of the rich and deep black you apparently love so much in your beautiful land Westfalia, your Grace. It deserves the same attention, care, respect and love as all the other various and magnificent colors nature is offering so splendidly to us truly deserve,” the older one explained patiently and with sympathy shining through the gentle smile. 

“But you're clearly not in the right mindset to appreciate the beautiful silver robe _Taranis_ , the God of Sky, put on to please us today, and I shall hope that he will change later today again to soothe your troubled mind with his most magnificent blue dress.” 

Marco hadn't expected such a reaction to his admittedly pretty childish and defiant behavior, and he was at a loss for words and simply stared at the other man as he tried to take a look behind the polite mask. He failed miserably of course and let out an annoyed sound, rubbing his forehead where a bad headache started to throb. 

“Please let me also ease your conscience as well, your Grace. You didn't forget my name - my sire didn't mention it last night,” the remarkable servant of his betrothed then continued evenly after a short moment of silence, and Marco frowned at that. He'd been dismayed that he'd forgotten the name of the most important person next to the Duke of Falkenstein himself and his commander Manuel of Neueneck that was living here in Castle Falkenstein, and this just after a few hours had passed; and the explanation the other one had offered to him didn't feel right and didn't make any sense to him.

“Why would he forget to mention the name of his housekeeper?” he murmured, and the smile on the older man's face deepened. 

“He didn't forget to tell you my name yesterday, your Grace. My sire never forgets anything that is important.”

Understanding dawned, and Marco gritted his teeth. “So it was a test to see whether or not I would notice his seeming carelessness,” he stated in a shallow voice, and the housekeeper bowed his head again.

“No quite. You will understand it when you've gotten the chance to know his Grace better, your Grace, but I can assure you that my sire doesn't feel any need to test you of all people.”

This made even less sense if possible, and Marco's headache became worse with every second that passed. He was losing the last shreds of his patience he'd still possessed after everything that had happened yesterday, and he found himself growling in anger before he had his sudden bout of fury back under control again.

“Oh damn it! Stop calling me 'your Grace' all of the time. Lord Marco will do just fine. You're giving me a headache with all of this 'your Grace' and 'his Grace'!” Marco snarled, and his counterpart bowed his head deeper.

“It wasn't my intention to give you a headache, Lord Marco.” he apologized, and it spoke for his sensitivity and soft skills that he accepted Marco's order not to call him 'your Grace' instead of trying his patience any further. “My name is Miro,” he added to finally reveal his name to him, and Marco drew in a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Fair enough, Miro,” he said in a much calmer voice. “I should probably pretend that I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, but we both know that it would be a blatant lie, so I will not insult your intelligence and spare you this. You came here to spy on me and make sure that I will obey your sire's orders, so let's get it over with and hope that my 'dear' betrothed won't be angrier about my tardiness and the delay of our 'intimate' breakfast than he must already be. My right hand is usually serving me when I'm not at home in Castle Hohenburg, but I can see why him serving me here under the roof of my betrothed's castle would be considered a serious offense, so would you please be so kind to send me one of your servants? I'm perfectly capable of dressing without any help, but I'd be grateful for someone with a quiet hand as my future husband will surely not appreciate it if I'll join him without a proper shaving or with cuts and scratches all over my face. I fear that my hand won't be quiet enough for shaving myself without any cuts today.”

“If you wish for Lord Robert to serve you, then I will ask him to come in, sire,” Miro said much to Marco's surprise, “he's waiting outside to make sure that nobody will bother you since he came back from an early training session with Lord Neueneck.”

“He didn't keep you from bothering me.” Marco rubbed his forehead again and cocked his head to the side to regard Miro for a moment. “You would really risk your lord's fury and let my right hand serve me?” he then inquired doubtfully. “You called him 'Lord Robert', so I assume that you know who he is, right?” 

Miro slowly nodded his head, his perfectly controlled and polite expression giving nothing away of his thoughts. “Yes, I know the true identity and origin of the one who's serving you with such devotion and faith, Lord Marco. But you're wrong when you think that my sire would be angry in any way. It was his explicit order that your wishes have absolute priority before anything else, so if you require the services of your own confidant, then you'll get them, your Grace.”

Marco let the addressing go without chiding Miro for his lapse. “I see. His ministers won't be as gracious as he seems to be,” he murmured with a sigh. “As much as I appreciate his willingness to bend the rules of diplomatic accommodations for my sake, but one of your servants will actually do fine. I don't think that they will try to cut my throat during the shaving.”

“No harm will come to you in between these walls, Lord Marco,” Miro said firmly, and Marco was willing to believe him in this for the time being. “My sire sent me to your rooms in the hope that you would accept my services as he knows that I will serve you like I'm serving him. I have shaven him many times when he couldn't do that himself for some reasons, so you don't need to fear that I will harm you with the blade.”

Marco snorted at that statement. “Yes, of course. I'm not that dense, housekeeper. He sent you to me because he wants you to spy on me, hoping that you'll be able to loosen my tongue enough to get the information he longs to have.”

“I'm not here to ask you questions you wouldn't answer anyway, Lord Marco – nor am I here to answer the questions about my sire that are surely weighing on your mind. He will do that himself when the time is right. I'm just here to serve you and make sure that you're feeling as safe and comfortable as you can possibly feel so far away from your beloved home.” Miro's voice was honest and sincere, and his eyes were dark with sympathy and understanding. 

The young Duke of Hohenburg swallowed and made a vague gesture of approval and resignation. “Very well, do your job then and prove to me that you know how to handle a sharp blade without drawing blood, housekeeper,” he said, rising to his feet and stalking over to the washstand with the mirror to sit down on the comfortable chair and let Miro shave him. His heart was beating faster in his chest at the thought of seeing his fiancé again, and he couldn't help but hate himself for his desire to come closer to the Duke of Falkenstein and learn more about him.

Thomas of Falkenstein was his enemy, and most of all he was the sworn enemy of the man Marco loved, and he'd better not forget that, no matter how much his betrothed was trying to lure him into a false sense of security with his seeming kindness and wish for peace.

*~*~*

Marco ignored Robert when he finally strode out of his rooms to meet his fiancé for the private breakfast he'd been 'invited' to, still hurt that the one he needed more than ever now had left him alone in one of his most vulnerable moments. The Earl of Lindelborn bowed his head and followed him silently when Marco trailed behind Miro, and he lifted his chin in defiance and resisted the strong urge to turn his head and seek Robert's gaze only with effort.

The walk through the corridors seemed to last for hours, but it couldn't have been more than just a few minutes when the housekeeper of Castle Falkenstein came to a halt before another ornate wooden door and raised his hand to knock at it.

“Come in!”

Marco's throat tightened when he heard the voice of his future husband sounding through the door, muffled by the heavy dark oak and the thick reddish walls of his new home. A home that was as beautiful as his own beloved Castle Hohenburg as he had to admit, but which felt like a prison that threatened to choke him nonetheless.

Miro opened the door and stepped to the side to let him pass, and Marco made a few cautious steps forward but paused on the threshold to look at the confidant of the powerful Duke of Falkenstein. He'd refused to dress with anything else other than just black breeches, a simple yellow shirt with long sleeves and a plain black tunic, but now he wished that he had put on his coat because of the cold shiver that was wrecking him all of a sudden.

“Will you not join us to make sure that I'll behave properly in front of your sovereign?” he murmured, knowing that he was behaving childishly, but he just couldn't help it. A small amused smile ghosted over Miro's features. 

“My sire is perfectly capable of dealing with any possible insolence himself, Lord Marco, don't you doubt that. But please tell me - are you really planning to insult your betrothed in his own residence then, your Grace?” The older man asked curiously and with a hint of mockery, and Marco felt his cheeks redden. 

“That depends on his demeanor, I think. Considering that he chose a man with a rather poor memory to be his housekeeper, I am prepared for the worst!” he snapped back, and Miro nodded his head before him in a rather deep bow, probably to hide the smirk that was clearly tugging at his lips at Marco's defiant antics. Robert escaped a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a strangled laughter, but Marco didn't look at him because he didn't trust himself not to break down if he did. Apart from that he was still angry and hurt, the thought that he'd lose Robert soon enough because he was not only the bonded soulmate of his betrothed, but also Thomas of Falkenstein's worst enemy, scaring him so much that he could hardly breathe.

“I apologize for my ignorance, Lord Marco,” Miro retorted, and his voice lacked any mockery or amusement when he saw the despair in Marco's amber-green eyes, “and I'll accept any consequences you shall see fit for the inconvenience I caused when I addressed you in the wrong way you'd told me not to do.”

Marco sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Oh, forget it!” he murmured, turning his head away and stalking into the large room where his future husband was awaiting him. The door closed behind him, and Marco was alone with his future husband for the first time since he'd arrived in Castle Falkenstein the previous day.

*~*~*

The Duke of Falkenstein was standing before the arched window, and he now turned around to meet Marco's gaze and smile at him. He was tall and of lean build, his thick and short-cut light-brown hair arranged to a neat hairdo and his bi-colored eyes looking intently at Marco – just as if he was trying to look right into his soul.

Thomas of Falkenstein was dressed with simple dark-red breeches, a white shirt and a sleeveless tunic made of the same red color like his leather pants, and he looked younger and less dangerous than he'd looked like last night, but Marco didn't make the mistake of underestimating the other man.

The sovereign of Palatina was known for his intelligence, his strong will and his ruthless determination to protect his homeland at all costs, no matter which prize he had to pay to defend and protect his country and his subjects. His clever move when he'd proposed a marriage for the sake of both countries Palatina and Westfalia was evidence enough that he would always put the needs of his people before his own, and now he had his former enemy at his complete mercy and totally under control to do with him as it pleased him. Marco's needs and wishes didn't matter to him, and Marco would better always think of that and not let his true feelings show.

“Good morning, your Grace,” the blond Duke of Westfalia said to break the heavy silence between them when Thomas just kept regarding him with this intent look on his face, his head slightly tilted to the right side. 

Marco lifted his chin up again to hide his insecurity and held his ground in the middle of the spacious and bright room that seemed to be Thomas' private living and dining room at once. A large table with six comfortable chairs occupied the left half of the room, set up with plates, mugs and bowls for a late breakfast. The other half of the chamber was furnished with tall bookshelves on the walls and two heavy armchairs arranged before the fireplace that had been carved into the red wall. Thick carpets swallowed Thomas' steps as he now slowly came closer, and Marco couldn't hide his small flinch when his fiancé stopped just a few inches away from him, standing so close that Marco could inhale his unique scent and feel his body heat seep through his own clothes.

“Good morning, my dear betrothed. I hope that you have slept well – at least as well as you could sleep given that you're so far away from everything you cherish and know.” Sparks were dancing in those fascinating bi-colored orbs, and Marco felt his heart flutter in his chest. He was reacting to Thomas' closeness, to his maleness, and he loathed and feared his reaction at the same time. He wanted to lash out and accuse his fiancé of everything bad that came into his mind, but instead he swallowed his hatred down and said:

“Thank you for your concern, your Grace. I slept long and peacefully until your housekeeper was so kind to require my presence at your breakfast table.” Marco didn't know what kind of reaction he'd expected to pull from the other Duke with his words, but surely not the truly amused and surprisingly melodious chuckle that filled the room with its cheerfulness now.

“My beautiful golden warrior. I shall hope that you're better at fighting than you're at lying. You surely slept long as you were clearly utterly exhausted yesterday, but I can see dark shadows under your eyes, so your slumber can't have been as peaceful as you've just claimed that it was. Not to mention that I can also see clearly that you weren't pleased at all about my request to join me for breakfast either. I must admit that I would prefer your honesty over diplomatic but false politeness, my beautiful betrothed.”

“Do you really want me to insult you in your own house, your Grace?” Marco raised a red-golden eyebrow at his fiancé, and the Duke of Falkenstein smiled at him. 

“You being honest to me will never insult me, Lord Marco.”

“I fear that you are mistaken here, your Grace. I would prefer civilized and diplomatic courtesy between us – at least for the beginning.”

“False politeness is never a good way to start such a binding relationship like a marriage, my golden warrior,” Thomas gave back thoughtfully. “We're alone here, and the walls are thick enough to protect us from prying eyes and ears, so you can speak openly to me without having to fear that your honesty will cause any troubles or serious incidence. Plus, there's no need to address me in this formal way and call me 'your Grace', and surely not when we're alone.”

The tender nickname Thomas had chosen for him for the second time already caught Marco off guard and made his stupid heart race in his chest. Why did he do that to him? Marco wasn't the man the Duke of Falkenstein was truly interested in, he was just the aristocratic opponent he wanted to marry for political reasons and to gain power over him. Marco drew in a deep breath and took one step back to bring some distance between them.

“You're my sovereign, so the addressing is appropriate,” he insisted, hating how hoarse and hurt he sounded.

“I'm not your sovereign, Marco of Hohenburg – nor would I ever want to be that for you – your sovereign, I mean. I am your fiancé, and I want to be your husband, not your sovereign. You're not one of my subjects, ministers or lords, and I want us to be equals in every way that truly matters, so will you please accept my offer and just call me Thomas when we're alone – or at least just 'Lord Thomas' – my beautiful golden warrior?”

“You really expect me to believe your sweet words, your Grace? Do you really think that I don't know what's going on between you and my right hand? That I don't know who he is to you?”

Thomas' expression didn't change, and his voice was quiet and gentle when he spoke up again. “You are my betrothed, the man I wish to marry. The fact that the Earl of Lindelborn is the one the gods have obviously chosen to be my  _ Animatus  _ doesn't change anything that is between you and me, Marco of Hohenburg. You're still the man I want to marry and cherish as my valued and beloved husband, and my intention was never to gain power over you or become your sovereign when I asked you for your hand. I want us to be equals and rule over Palatina and Westfalia together, I want us to be real partners and bring peace to both of our beloved homelands so we can lead our people into a future that will grant freedom and peace to everyone, my beautiful golden warrior.”

“I don't believe you. Not after knowing that Robert is your bonded soulmate – and the man you must hate more than anybody else considering what his grandfather did to your family. Plus, stop calling me 'beautiful'. I'm not beautiful.” Marco drew in another shaky breath, and Thomas' eyes darkened with an emotion Marco was afraid to recognize and acknowledge.

His future husband lifted his hand up, his long fingers hovering in the air not more than a hair's breadth away from Marco's face. “May I?” the Duke of Falkenstein murmured, his eyes traveling over Marco's face in a touchless but nonetheless intensive caress.

“And if I say no?” Marco croaked out, his blood drumming in his ears.

“Then I will respect your wish and not touch you, my golden warrior.”

“You don't need my permission,” Marco accused the other one, and Thomas inclined his head. 

“Yes, of course I do, Marco. I would never go against your wishes.”

“Really?” Marco snorted, “so if I told you that I don't want this marriage, would you let me go then?”

There was a short moment of silence, and Marco readied himself for learning more about the cruel and merciless side of his fiancé after his new affront, but Thomas simply asked in a calm and friendly, almost curious voice:

“Do you want me to let you go, my beautiful golden warrior?”

Marco closed his eyes and swallowed. “You talked to Robert last night, didn't you? Did you tell him that he's beautiful as well?”

A soft chuckle made its way to his ears and his eyes opened against his will to stare at the mysterious and fascinating man who would soon be his husband if Marco didn't find a way to end this. “No, I didn't, my dear betrothed.”

“Why not?” Marco knew that he was torturing himself, but he couldn't keep the words inside.

“Robert of Lindelborn knows that he's beautiful. He knows his worth as the skilled fighter he is, he knows how much he means to you and all of your subjects, and he doesn't lack the needed self-confidence to know his standing in this world, so he doesn't need me to tell him anything of this kind. Besides, he's not the man I wish to marry, and as your beloved homeland Westfalia is obviously lacking enough mirrors so you can look into them and let your reflection speak for itself, it's my appreciated duty to make you see your beauty and worth.” 

Thomas' hand was still raised, and Marco gave him permission to touch him with a tiny nod of his head before he realized what he was doing. He hadn't known how much he longed for the other man's touch, and he should hate himself for his weakness, but the warmth of Thomas' calloused fingertips on his cold cheek erased any coherent thought for a few seconds.

“Why do you want to marry me, Thomas?” he whispered, holding his breath when the brunet duke let his fingers wander over his face as if he wanted to map it and burn it into his memory. “Now that you've found the other half of your soul, I mean. Why would you want to bind yourself to a man you can never love and desire?”

“What makes you think that I could not love and desire you, Marco of Hohenburg? You're kind and honorable and beautiful, my golden warrior, it's so easy to love and desire you – far too easy for both of our own good as I fear.” Thomas' voice was hoarse now as well, like the low purr of a big cat that was cornering its prey, and a shiver of both fear and raw desire was running down on Marco's back.

Those long fingers were still trailing over his face in a feather-light caress, and the tempting mixture of warm skin, fresh sweat and leather was filling Marco's nose and his senses in a way not even Robert was able to do.

“I'm not your _Animatus,_ ” he spat out in a sudden bout of fury and despair, “I'm not Robert!”

“No, you're not. And the Earl of Lindelborn is not your soulmate and yet you love him so much, don't you? Will you allow me to show you that I'm speaking the truth when I tell you that I truly desire you as my cherished husband, Lord Marco?”

Marco licked over his dry lips as he looked into Thomas' bi-colored eyes, and Thomas' gaze darkened with hunger when he cocked his head to the side and moved closer, his breath ghosting over Marco's burning cheeks. His eyes fell shut when their lips touched for the first time and the world around him suddenly stood still.


	5. Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Marco can't deny the attraction between them any longer, but Robert is still standing between them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter so many weeks ago, I'm glad that I can finally post it. :-)

Marco's lips were soft and warm, so tempting. His fresh male scent penetrated Thomas' nose in the most delicious way, and the Duke of Falkenstein pulled his betrothed closer to his body and deepened their kiss with a wave of raw hunger that was taking his breath away and making his mind spin. Marco's lean body was trembling in his arms like the small falcon Thomas had once held in his hands when he'd found the bird lying helplessly on the ground.

The young Duke still remembered that long gone day so clearly and vividly, it had been a grayish late spring day just like it was today. He'd brought the young hawk back home to see to its broken wing and nurse it back to health together with Miro's help, hiding it from the other servants and his father because he feared that his new friend would be taken away from him again.

Thomas still remembered so well how he'd sat before the young falcon's cage and talked to the young male bird, which he'd called his  _ 'little warrior' _ . The young knave he'd been back then had told  _ little warrior  _ all of his secret dreams and his worries, and the falcon had listened to him with attentive and intelligent eyes and made small sounds of comfort and agreement, just as though he was truly understanding what Thomas told him. It had taken Thomas several days and a lot of patience until  _ little warrior  _ had trusted him enough to sit on his hand without fear, and the first time the falcon had come to him willingly he'd promised him that he would set him free again when his wing had healed.

The day had come when spring had finally made way for the summer, and the thought of losing his faithful friend had almost broken Thomas' heart. But he was a man of honor, and honorable men didn't break a promise they'd given to someone, not even when said someone was just a small bird. He'd saddled his horse and ridden out of the cool reddish walls and right into the bright sunshine until the distance to Castle Falkenstein was big enough to fulfill his promise and give his friend his freedom back again.

_ Little warrior  _ had looked at him questioningly when Thomas had pulled the hood from his head, and he'd whispered his goodbyes and lifted his arm high up into the sky. 

“Fly, _little warrior!_ Fly high up into the sky and be free again!” he'd croaked out, blinking against the tears that were suddenly stinging in his eyes. The falcon had hesitated for a moment, but then he'd spread his wings and brushed with the healed one against Thomas' damp cheek in a last tender and grateful caress before he'd flown away, becoming smaller and smaller until he was just a tiny black spot in the endless vastness of the deep blue summer sky. Thomas' neck had hurt from the way he'd craned it to watch his friend fly circles high above his head for a while, and the soft summer breeze had dried the tears on his face on his long ride back home. Miro had of course noticed that he'd been crying right after his return, but he'd said nothing and hidden him in his own chamber until the last traces had vanished, facing the anger of Thomas' father about his son's long and illicit absence and taking the blame for it.

Marco of Hohenburg reminded Thomas of  _ little warrior  _ in so many ways, and he wrapped his arms tightly about Marco's trembling back and licked over the soft gate the other man's warm lips formed to ask for entrance. A small moan made its way to his ears when Marco finally granted him access to his mouth and opened his lips for him shyly, and Thomas curiously licked his way inside, eager to explore the new territory that he wanted to claim so badly.

His fiancé was still a mystery to Thomas, promising and scaring at the same time, and the Duke of Falkenstein longed to get to know his beautiful golden warrior better and be allowed to take a look behind the walls that the blond Duke had built around himself to protect his heart. Marco tasted so sweet, and Thomas' blood started to boil in his veins with unrestrained passion when the other man began to return his kiss, hesitantly at first but then with growing insistence, meeting Thomas' tongue with his own and inviting it to a playful battle that Thomas was more than willing and eager to fight.

Thomas hadn't dared hoping that there could be more between him and his future husband than just some kind of respect and maybe even cautious friendship one day, but now he couldn't deny any longer that he was craving more from his betrothed, so much more. He wanted Marco to look at him like he looked at Robert, and it confused him because Robert was his chosen  _ Animatus,  _ the one his soul recognized as her other half, the true mate he'd been yearning for for so long, but Marco was the man Thomas still wished to marry more than ever now.

He deepened their hungry kiss with a low ardent growl, pulling Marco close to his body until not even the thinnest layer of silk would fit between them, and another low sound escaped his throat when the pressure against his hipbone proved to him that hate and contempt were not the only emotions Marco felt for him. The young Duke of Hohenburg desired him with the same passion Thomas felt himself, and the evidence of Marco's desire fueled Thomas' need and made it burn higher and higher. He lifted Marco up and carried him over to the broad windowsill before he even knew what he was doing, ignoring the small sound of protest Marco uttered when his hardness lost contact to Thomas' warm body and was bereft of the friction it craved so desperately. He lowered his betrothed down onto the cool stone triumphantly and nudged his legs apart to make himself comfortable between them without ever breaking their deep and passionate kiss, pressing their bodies close against each other again.

Marco's soft whimper was music in his ears, and he licked over the line of teeth teasingly as he pulled his willing prey against his lean torso, wrapping both arms tightly around him. The blond Duke was clinging to his back for dear life, and Thomas' head was clouded with the need to make Marco his right there and then. He loosened his tight grip around Marco's neck and pushed one hand between their bodies to rub over the leather-covered bulge between his legs, drawing more gasps and sighs from his betrothed with his caresses. Marco arched against him, his short nails digging into the small valley between Thomas' shoulders and scratching over the shimmering red fabric of his tunic. Their tongues swirled around each other, and if this was just a wonderful dream, then Thomas never wanted to wake up from it. He wanted more, so much more. He needed more so badly, he needed it all, and his hand came up to tug at the laces of Marco's trousers and release his betrothed from the offending garment when he suddenly realized what he was doing, pulling back as if someone had poured a bucket with icy-cold water over his head.

“W-w-what-tt?” Marco stammered, the word of protest coming out in a long breathless whine.

Thomas drew in a shaky breath and gently laid their foreheads together as he tried to catch his breath and willed his racing heartbeat to slow down again. His groin was pulsing with the pain of his unfulfilled desire, his cock throbbing between his legs and literally screaming that he would finish what he'd started. The look of confusion on Marco's flushed features, a mixture of hurt, rejection and relief, made Thomas' heart ache and his throat tighten, and he raised his trembling fingers to gently stroke over his warm cheek.

“I'm sorry, my beautiful golden warrior, I'm so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, and Marco tried to pull away, but Thomas' left hand around his neck kept him firmly in place.

“For what are you sorry, your Grace?” Marco snarled, but he sounded more hurt and frightened than truly angry when Thomas refused to let go of him. “For having kissed the man you loathe - and who is standing between you and your true soulmate?”

Thomas shook his head and placed a small kiss on the tip of Marco's nose. “I think that we'd just established that it's Thomas for you, not 'your Grace', my defiant golden warrior,” he murmured, smiling when his warm breath ghosting over Marco's face pulled a visible shiver from the man in his arms.

“And no, not that of course. How could I ever regret our wonderful first kiss? I will carve it into my heart and my soul and burn it into my memory forever as the precious treasure it actually is.” He drew back a little to look into Marco's eyes, still dark with desire, his pupils dilated with arousal and his nostrils flaring with his raged breathing.

“Why are you sorry, then?” Marco croaked out, but he stopped fighting against Thomas' grip and leaned back against him with a small whine. Thomas placed another gentle kiss onto his temple.

“That I lost control like that. You're my betrothed, the one I promised to marry, respect and cherish, to love. You're not a simple stable boy, to be taken in the hay or here on the rough stone of a windowsill, and you deserve to be cherished and treasured. You deserve to lie in a cozy bed and have a ring on your finger before I'm allowed to go further and show you how much I desire you, my golden warrior.”

Marco glanced at him through thick dark-blond lashes. “Would you really do that? Roll around in the hay with a stable boy, I mean?” he wanted to know, and Thomas pulled a face at the mere thought of doing something like that.

“No, never. My servants are safe from any unwanted attention, either mine or the attention of anybody else living under my roof. The noble members of my court unfortunately don't share my view on that, but I was very clear about what will happen to them if I'll ever hear that one of them didn't respect a 'no' and took advantage of their status and power to rape one of my charges.”

Marco relaxed, and the smile he gifted Thomas with was genuine. “I'm glad to hear that. So you don't wish to sleep with me in a bed of hay?” he teased him, and Thomas' heart clenched with a new wave of overwhelming desire when he realized that his beautiful betrothed was actually flirting with him. That was more than he'd hoped to get after their first encounter barely more than twelve hours ago, and his heart made a happy flip when he smiled back at his betrothed.

“Only if you want that, too, my golden warrior – after our wedding. And not in our first night together.”

There was a moment of silence when they just looked at each other, their cheeks still flushed red from their kiss and their hair ruffled from eager hands that had been carding through the soft short strands.

“You don't need to be sorry... Thomas. I lost control as well.” Marco admitted after another minute or so, and all Thomas could was to keep himself from reaching out for his fiancé again and just continue where they had stopped.

“It doesn't excuse what I almost did, but thank you, my dear betrothed. So there's hope left that you won't despise me for the rest of your life, but maybe even truly welcome me in your heart and in your bed one day?”

A shadow flickered over Marco's face. “One day perhaps, who knows? But what about Robert?” he inquired, his voice carefully controlled again, and Thomas sighed.

“What about him, Marco?” he countered with the same question, his fingers trailing over Marco's jawline in a soft caress.

“He's your bonded _Animatus._ ”

“And your lover. The one who took your virginity.”

They gazed at each other, neither of them willing to be the first one to look away.

“Do you hate him for being my first?” Marco asked at last, sounding tired. He didn't even ask him why Thomas was so sure that it had been Robert taking Marco's virginity, and not the other way around, just accepted that his fiancé seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Marco's relationship with his own _Animatus_. 

The Duke of Hohenburg looked so young and hopeless, and Thomas regretted deeply that he'd made the golden sparks in Marco's eyes vanish again, but they needed to talk about that delicate topic, no matter how much he wished to give his beautiful betrothed enough time to settle in here in his new home, time neither of them had.

“Do you hate him for being the one the gods have chosen to be my bonded soul, Marco?”

“No. It was never in his power to object against the will of the gods.”

“I agree with you. Maybe the gods also wanted him to be your first man as well, my betrothed. It is not upon us to question their decisions, and all we can do is to make the best out of it and travel the road they've chosen for us to take.” Thomas said thoughtfully, and Marco inhaled a deep breath and allowed his shoulders to slump with the exhaustion he must still feel.

“He's still the grandson of the lord who betrayed your grandfather.”

“Yes, but I will not judge him for the things his grandfather did before he was even born. That would be too simple.” Thomas gently lifted Marco's chin up to look at him and stroke over his bottom lip, still swollen and red from their ardent kiss.

“I will not rest until I'll have won your trust, my golden warrior, and I'm aware that it will take some time for that to happen. Time we actually don't have as our wedding will take place the day after tomorrow. Delaying it would only give those who don't want peace between our countries more time to come up with new plans to fill our hearts with mistrust and new hate and make sure that the bloody war that has already lasted for too long will not stop. But I can promise you that I will respect your boundaries and court you with patience and understanding until you will come into my arms willingly and because you long for me as much as I long for you - and I promise you that I will never force myself upon you and wait until you'll be ready to become my husband in every sense of the meaning.”

Marco considered Thomas' words for a moment. “I see. Thank you, my fiancé. But - will you order Robert to stay away from me, Thomas? Will you forbid me to seek comfort in his... presence and perhaps even expect me to push him away from me?”

The ugly beast of jealousy raised its head to roar loudly, but Thomas fought against it, and he ignored the painful lump in his throat when he answered:

“If his arms are what you long and need to feel around you to feel safe and comforted, then I will accept it, Marco of Hohenburg. I could forbid you to see him, but I don't have the power to make you stop loving him, and me trying to do that would only increase the gap between us, so I won't tell you to stay away from him. 

He's your right hand and your first knight, so my people will not be surprised to see you two together. I would only be grateful if you were discreet and didn't cause any complications with your behavior.”

“Thank you. I promise you that I will do my best not to put you to shame in your own castle, Thomas.” Marco murmured, and Thomas nodded his head tersely. 

“Now that this is settled, would you like to join me at the table, then? It would be a shame to let the food go to the waste, wouldn't it?” Thomas took a step back and gestured at the set up table to hide his hurt about Marco's rejection, because that was what his words implied, the refusal to let Thomas be a part of his bond with Robert – the man who was the other half of his soul but whose love belonged to his future husband.

Marco's face fell when he saw how Thomas' features closed up, the mask of the powerful Duke instead of the vulnerable man he'd just been a few minutes ago slipping back into place.

“Yes, of course, your Grace.” the blond Duke glided down from the windowsill and made his way over to the table, waiting until Thomas stepped behind him to pull the chair for him. Thomas' lips were still tingling from their kiss, and he asked himself whether or not it was the same for Marco. Their kiss had been a turning point between them, because it had proved to Thomas that Marco wasn't as indifferent towards him as he probably wanted to be, or at least wanted to appear to be.

Something had changed between them, and the disappointment in Marco's eyes about Thomas' sudden distance gave the Duke of Falkenstein the faint hope that winning the heart of his beautiful betrothed would be easier than he'd thought it to be at first. Robert of Lindelborn was still an unknown quantity between them, but Thomas was not the man to give up hope that easily, and he wouldn't rest until he'd won the trust of both men. It would be a hard task, but worth the outcome, he was sure of that.

For some reasons Thomas didn't know about the gods had chosen the three of them to change the world to the better and bring peace to their countries together, and Thomas would not question their will, because the reward for his faith in their wisdom would be all the sweeter then.

A smile lit up his features when he sat down opposite to his fiancé, reaching over the table to take Marco's hand and squeeze his fingers. “I will offer the moon and the stars to you, my golden warrior. Whatever you wish to have, it shall be yours.”

“Even Robert?” Marco looked at him doubtfully, and Thomas brought their entangled fingers to his mouth to kiss Marco's knuckles. “Even Robert, my dear betrothed.”

“You're really not like I expected you to be, Thomas of Falkenstein.” Marco shook his head in disbelief, but his voice sounded lighter again, hopeful.

“I'll take that as a compliment, Marco of Hohenburg,” Thomas said with a small chuckle, letting go of his hand to serve him instead, and Marco let Thomas fill his plate without any protest. 

“Thank you, my... fiancé.” Their fingers brushed against each other when Marco took the plate, and Thomas' heart leaped in his chest that Marco had called him his fiancé in this soft wondrous voice for the first time.

“Enjoy your meal, my golden warrior.” He filled a plate for himself, but simply leaned back to watch Marco eat for a moment before he focused on his own breakfast. The gods were looking kindly at them, and the sun peered out from behind the thick clouds that covered the sky, a clear sign that Thomas had found the right words and that the gods wanted to bless their bond.

Only two more days and then, Marco would be his. Thomas had been so torn about their wedding, but as he now gazed at his future husband and his eyes traveled to Marco's thoroughly kissed mouth again, he could hardly wait any longer.

Just two more days, and then he would show Marco the moon and the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind feedback, kudos and comments would be wonderful and love. <33


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